


The Seal Man of North Ronaldsay Prompt Fills

by Nehszriah



Series: Fae and Fantasy Doctor Who AUs [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Gen, Kid Fic, Modern Fantasy, Prompt Fic, Selkie AU, Selkies, story inserts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7845283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various tumblr prompt fills set during and after The Seal Man of North Ronaldsay, the AU where Twelve is a seal-fae [accidentally] summoned by [a mourning] Clara.</p><p>Contains OCs, small children, and kelp-eating sheep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another Gift

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this one goes as follows: Sjeh Mither appears in human guise one day to give her blessings to baby Terra, and maybe even hint at what sorts of "gifts" the little one may have.

The sounds of Terra shrieking in laughter as she splashed in the water eased Clara as she sat along the beach reading her book. It was the weekend in September, not long after she started her new position at the primary school, and things were going well. She would leave Terra at home with Ian, coming home for her lunch hour, and would be greeted at the door to the school at the end of the day by husband and bairn. Glancing over the top of the book, she indulgently watched her six-month-old daughter stomp about in the waves, Ian holding her up by the arms. He was so good with her that she had no qualms about returning to her teaching career, turning the ages-old fae into a stay-at-home dad.

“Clara! She’s going to be a natural in the water!” Ian beamed at her. With his windblown hair and rolled up trouser legs, he seemed as though he was having the time of his life.

“Make sure she has a pair of flippers first, then we’ll talk,” she replied. While she looked back at the pages, Ian took Terra into his arms and carried her over to her mother, placing the baby in her lap. Terra’s pudgy baby-legs were still soaked in water, causing Clara to shudder. “Ian, you arse, are you sure it’s okay to keep her in temperatures this cold?”

“It’s perfectly safe,” he grinned. The selkie leaned down and after kissing his daughter’s crown, he kissed his wife on the lips, long and slow.

Suddenly, a flock of sheep began to charge down the beach towards them. They were bleating loudly, causing Ian to growl against Clara’s mouth in irritation before turning to yell at them.

“If I’ve told you kelp-monsters once, I’ve told you a dozen times: not while I’m having family time!” he shouted. Instead of surrounding the family in excitement, they all stood by the water’s edge, waiting on the bulge that was headed towards them. Out of the ocean came Sjeh Mither, regarding the excited flock with warm greetings.

Once she was done petting the sheep, the spirit walked over towards the Morlos, smiling at them fondly. “So this is the babe who was born to you while I was teaching my brother’s pet a lesson.”

“Yes, Mither,” Ian replied. He bowed deeply, hand perpendicular to his chest, and took Terra in his arms so that Clara could stand and do the same. Once Terra was back in her mother’s arms, Sjeh Mither approached the girl and crouched down, inspecting her wide pale eyes and tufts of brown hair.

“So beautiful,” she said, placing her finger in Terra’s hand.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Clara replied. “She looks like her father.”

“Her eyes are shaped like yours, mortal daughter,” Mither chuckled. “A soul like yours as well—loving and charming… one that shall break many hearts without a single malicious act.”

Clara simply nodded at that, knowing it was best to not argue whatever Mither found. “Would you like to hold her?”

“I would love to.”

After a kiss on the cheek from her mother, Terra was passed to Sjeh Mither. The spirit stood upright, which made the baby tremble and quickly look around with confusion. Her parents were not doing anything but watching, which was the only reason why she did not cry.

“You are well-behaved, hybrid child,” the spirit cooed. Terra put a hand against the woman’s grey face and marveled, having never seen a person like that before. She babbled in intrigue, which only made Mither laugh. “Silly one—my hair should have kelp in it. My hair _is_ kelp.” Terra babbled some more, causing her father’s ears to turn pink.

“Pup, that is not the way you speak in front of Mither,” he mumbled. Sjeh Mither shook her head instead before leaving a gentle peck on the baby’s brow.

“She is young, and a child of two worlds,” she explained. “The hybrid child has time yet to learn all there is about her heritages. We cannot fault her.”

Ian breathed a small sigh of relief while holding in his amazement. His daughter was given a kiss by Sjeh Mither as well, meaning his entire family was now protected by her magic. He was unsure what he had done to deserve such a gift—life with his wife and daughter seemed gift enough in his book.

“I wanted so see the babe before I went on my way to other seas; I have a great interest in her,” Mither continued. “She is a fine lass and will be strong and at home in the seas.” A sheep let out a questioning bleat, catching her attention. “Yes, she will be kinder to you than her father—she never fought you for a spot on a rock for sunbathing.”

Ian’s ears turned even redder as Clara held back a snicker. “Mither, may I ask a question?”

“Yes; what is it, selkie son?”

“Is my daughter… like me?” he wondered. “I mean, is she a fae or is she human like her mother?”

“The hybrid child is precisely that,” she replied, bending down to put Terra in his arms. “Until we meet again, selkie son, mortal daughter, hybrid child.” The spirit then returned to the sea, causing forlorn bleating to come from the small flock still standing in the wet sand.

“Ian…?”

“Yes, Clara?”

“Did the Sjeh Mither just put our daughter under her protection because she’s ‘interested’ in her?”

“That’s what it seems like.”

“…and that we weren’t given a straight answer whether or not our child is a human or fae?”

“Well now, that’s a standard fae answer,” Ian defended. He held their daughter close, ignoring her babbling questions. “I think you should be happy you get a straight answer out of me at all.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Clara scowled, snatching Terra away. “I think you should go inside and start making dinner while the baby has Mummy Time.”

Ian didn’t protest, but instead slunk away, kicking some sand in the direction of a couple sheep in the process. After he went over the seawall and the sound of the door shutting reached her ears, Clara sat back down with her book, laying Terra across her so that they were chest-to-chest.

“Your father’s family is an odd one,” she told the child. Terra cooed in agreement and snuggled between her mother’s breasts, comfortable and happy.

 


	2. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this one was about when Ian and Clara were stuck in the house thanks to the nuckelavee.

Clara woke up, comforted by the warm, heavy weight in her arms. Ian still being there meant that he hadn’t run off and done something stupid, whether that was run off outside or start rummaging through the things indoors. She thought about the nuckelavee, the gruesome, horrific creature that Innes had under her command, and shivered slightly, pressing her chest closer to Ian’s back.

“Morning,” he replied. The selkie rolled over and wrapped his arms around Clara, making the hug mutual. He kissed her crown and stroked her back, not letting her see the look of worry on his face. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Yeah, a little,” she said. “It was difficult, but I think I got more than a few hours at the least. How about you?”

“Barely got a wink in,” he frowned. “It was like a night storm—have to pay attention the entire time, and if you fall asleep, there’s a chance to be swept into the sea off-guards.”

“…except we’re safe here, aren’t we?” He stayed silent, not even looking her in the eyes. “Ian? We _are_ safe, yeah?”

“Of course we are, as long as my barrier holds,” he said.

“Will it hold?”

“It shall, though I’ll have to maintain it.” Ian then untangled himself from Clara and swung his legs over the side of the mattress, sitting up. He vigorously scratched his scalp before standing, reaching for the jumper and hooded sweatshirt he had discarded on a chair, the only things he had taken off before going to bed. Cuddling was a welcome distraction, but it was also something the selkie did not want to escalate quicker than it needed to. “I’ll get started on reinforcing the spells—we should be safer now that it’s starting to get light out.”

Clara watched as he walked out of the room, headed for the stairs. The gravity to Ian’s voice was worrying her… although, she admittedly would be even _more_ worried should he shrug everything off as no big deal. She took her time getting dressed, peeking out her window every so often at what Ian was doing. He seemed to be gesticulating grandly as he stood atop her garden wall, though she could not hear what he was saying. It was probably for the better, after all; who knew what sort of crazy fae thing he was reciting.

When she was dressed, Clara went downstairs and began to rummage around in the kitchen. Wind howled outside, causing the desire for something warm to flare up in her; well, something more than just tea. She filled the kettle up a bit more than usual and rummaged through the cupboards while it was heating. A few minutes later and she set two bowls of instant porridge on the table. The teapot in its cozy came next, and she sat down rather comfortably to begin her meal. Two spoonfuls in and Ian came back inside, hissing in irritation.

“It’s colder than a kelpie’s tit out there,” he scowled. The still-steaming bowl of porridge sitting at the table caught his eye, altering his demeanor. “Oh, is that for me?”

“Yeah—figured you’d need it too,” she said, gesturing for him to sit down. He did, allowing her to see the full-effect of his wind-blown hair, which she giggled at.

“What…?” he wondered.

“Nothing,” she chuckled. Clara reached out and patted Ian’s fluffy hair, trying to not smooth it out. “It’s a good look for you, that’s all.”

“What is?”

“The disheveled look—the way you don’t pay attention to your hair makes it clear to me that you’re not used to dealing with it.”

He paused, attempting to process her words. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, but your face says it’s a good thing. Which is it?”

“A bit of both, I guess,” she replied. “Wouldn’t want you looking like that the first time you meet my dad, but it’s definitely a good look for being around the house.”

“Now why would I meet your da? I don’t even know if we’re going to stay doing the whole couple thing,” he muttered. Ian shoved a bunch of porridge in his mouth, knowing he needed to shut up.

“Even if we don’t stay together, I still get the feeling you’re going to be around for a while… much longer than just when Rigsy and Jen come to visit,” she said. “I know you can get away with staying here by yourself for Christmas since Dad came here last year, but what if he wants to make the trip again? What about if he decides to come up for my birthday?”

“I’d figure out something.”

“What… live with the sheep? You can’t even walk within twenty feet of them without having a shout.”

“They need to be kept in line or they will revolt,” he insisted. “You don’t want an ovine revolution on your hands—they’re exceptionally good at organizing.”

“You are exceptionally good at exaggerating,” she deadpanned. Clara sipped her tea and listened to the howling wind. “Is that the nuck-a-creature?”

“The nuckelavee? Yeah,” Ian nodded. “Sjeh Mither will discover he’s loose eventually, but that day can’t come soon enough.”

“No, it can’t,” she agreed. She shivered while she took another drink of tea; hopefully it would be sooner rather than later.

 


	3. Before Douglas

Ian woke up alone in bed, clutching at the fabric of the sheets where Clara should have been. They were still warm, meaning that she couldn’t have gotten too far. When she didn’t return after a few minutes, he got out of bed and began to investigate, going down the stairs to the kitchen. He found his wife in the kitchen, munching idly on some crisps while browsing through a print-out of a paper draft he had finished the previous week. They were glad that the university he used to work for took him back, though not without some convincing that he was merely one of those people that aged funny, and Clara was determined to help out in any way she could.

“Clara, you should be resting,” Ian said. She didn’t even flinch when she heard his voice, or when he sat down next to her.

“I couldn’t sleep—the baby is being restless—so I decided to keep my mind active,” Clara explained. She was about to write another comment in the margin when her fae husband placed his hand on hers, stopping her from continuing. “What…?”

“Work is work, and you’re going to be doing a lot of work very soon,” he gently scolded. “Dave comes tomorrow; do you want your dad to arrive to a daughter that can barely keep her eyes open?”

“No, but he’ll understand,” she replied. She put down her marking pen and frowned, placing her hand on her swelled stomach. “I’m worried; Terra isn’t… _different_ , but what if this child is?”

“At least we know that whether they are or not, they will grow up much loved,” he murmured. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek in an attempt to reassure her. “Clara, you have nothing to fear; it’s just a wee babe.”

“I know that, but a mother always worries about her children.” She stopped as she heard a soft thumping from the floor above, rolling her eyes. “Speaking of…”

“Mummy! Daddy! Where are you?” Terra wondered as she made her way down the stairs. She saw her parents sitting at the kitchen table, so she climbed up into her chair, stacked with some books to help her reach properly. “I didn’t know it was already breakfast!”

“It’s not, pup,” Ian chuckled. “The baby was awake, so it woke up Mam and me.”

“Oh, that’s not nice,” the girl nodded. “Mummy? You said the baby was coming very soon—how soon?”

“Once Granddad is settled, that’s when Daddy and I are going to the hospital on the Mainland, and I’ll have the baby there.”

“Why there?” Terra asked.

“…because if something goes wrong, then there’s people around that can handle it,” Ian said. He plucked his daughter from her chair and nuzzled her face with his unshaven cheeks. She squealed, finding it most ticklish. “Now how about if we get you back to bed, yeah? Say good night to Mam; there’s still a long way to go until morning.”

“Okay,” she giggled. After giving her mother and unborn sibling extra goodnight kisses, Terra followed her father up the stairs over to her room. She climbed into her boat-shaped bed and settled within her blankets. As Ian was fussing over her, she curiously glanced up at him with her wide eyes. “Daddy?”

“Yes, pup?”

“Do things often go wrong with babies?”

“Not at all—it’s just that mams and dads don’t want to take the risk,” he explained. “I wouldn’t worry about Mam if I were you. Just worry about Granddad.” He leaned down close and whispered in her ear. “He’s rather lost around here, isn’t he?”

“He _is_ ,” the preschooler snickered. She accepted her father’s offer of her stuffed sheep and closed her eyes, going to sleep with the aid of a lullaby. Ian then gave her a kiss on the forehead and crept out into the corridor, being met by his wife.

“She down now?” Clara asked. All the reply she got was his outstretched hand and a cautious smile. They walked back to their room hand-in-hand and returned to bed, laying down in one another’s arms with their child between them. Selkie or human, they did not know, though what they did was that the child’s family was ready for it.

* * *

Morning truly came and the soon-to-expand family began to ready for the day. After being jumped on by his daughter, Ian took Terra down to the kitchen for some breakfast, while Clara went and began to slowly go through her things and figure out what she wanted to take along with her to Kirkwall. She’d been hopelessly bored when going in to have her daughter—they’d kept her extra-long and with the storms keeping the ferries out of commission, all she had was a newborn and a first-time-parenting book which was positively dreadful to keep her company. Once she was certain she had the appropriate novel and the necessary electronics and cords she’d need, she joined breakfast to find a sticky-faced daughter and her own stack of pancakes.

The ferry containing her father and his vehicle came at around midday, which couldn’t have been sooner for Dave Oswald. He was seasick and irritable, vomiting in the hedge nearly as soon as he parked his car right outside the garden wall. His granddaughter marveled at the lumpy concoction while his daughter tried not to vomit herself while greeting him.

“Another trip survived, eh Dad?” Clara asked. She watched as he picked up Terra and placed her on his shoulders in an attempt to forget his illness.

“Weather’s crap, roads were even worse, and traffic was a pain in the bloody arse: I’ve survived,” he replied. Dave pressed two fingers to his lips and pressed them to Clara’s cheek, not wanting to transfer anything to her with the baby so close to being born. “Where’s Ian?”

“Finishing packing—we’re going out on the evening ferry, if that’s alright with you.”

“Perfectly,” he replied. Dave then put Terra back down on the ground in response to her wriggling adamantly. “What’s up with you?”

“I got to get something!” she announced, dashing off into the house.

“She’s going to run circles around me, isn’t she?” Dave asked while taking his suitcase out of the boot. He brought it inside the house, with Clara close by him.

“Probably,” she admitted. “The only one that can really keep up with her sometimes is Ian, and I really don’t understand that at all.” Well, she honestly did, but if she told her father that her husband had the energy he did by virtue of being one of the Fair Folk, he could very well have her committed. “You’re going to be in the guest room—the nursery has taken over Ian’s office instead.”

“Thanks; that’s going to make a world of difference.” He stopped as he heard Terra run back through the house, approaching them while holding up her stuffed sheep above her head. “Now what’s this about?”

“Mummy needs to take Shaun!” Terra declared. “I have to stay here, but he can go with her and keep her company!”

“…but I thought your dad’s going too.”

“Yeah, but Daddy wanders and falls asleep when he says he won’t,” she explained. “I’m not afraid of the nuck, and if he scares me anyhow, I got you, Granddad!”

“There’s a good girl,” Dave grinned, ruffling her hair. Terra grinned, and when Ian brought down the carryall with supplies for the next few days, she carefully placed the plush atop it.

 


	4. A Visit from Mither

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place three days after Clara and Ian leave for the Mainland (as in Main Island) to prepare for Douglas's arrival.

Terra snapped awake, making to go grab her stuffed sheep only to find it wasn’t there. A moment of panic washed over her until she realized why her toy wasn’t in the confines of her bed: it was with Mummy and Daddy on the Mainland. Shaun was a very good sheep, even if Daddy found the idea to be “preposterous to the point of absurdity”, whatever that was supposed to mean, and he was going to watch over Mummy and her new sibling when Daddy had to sleep.

Crawling up to her knees, Terra grabbed for her clock—an old thing that went _tick-tick-tick-tick_ and would still count time if the power went out, Daddy promised. The tip of her tongue stuck out as she furrowed her brow in concentration, dragging her finger along the glass-encased face as she figured out the time. It was four-forty-four in the morning, which was too early to wake up Granddad, but somehow was early enough for _her_ to wake up. She climbed out of bed and turned on the lamp, determined to make the best of it.

It didn’t take long for her to get dressed and ready; she’d been practicing with Mummy and Daddy so they didn’t have to help her. Being a big sister meant that she was _definitely_ a big girl, and big girls didn’t need help putting on their jumpers. Terra took her stuffed animals and placed them all by the window, having them stare out of it—the agreed-upon sign that she went outside—and bounced as she made her way down the stairs towards the garden door. Boots on, as well as jacket and hat, and she quietly slipped out into the dark morning armed with a torch and her own sense of wonder.

Poking around in the garden, Terra didn’t find much of anything. There were a couple bugs still skittering and sliding about, while kittiwakes and skuas made some of their last early-morning rounds before beginning their migration for the winter, but nothing that was really _neat_ was happening. She sat down on a rock and wondered why it was she was up—usually whenever she woke up before Granddad, it was for a reason.

< _Mither!_ >

Terra squealed in delight and ran over towards the part of the garden wall that faced the sea. The sheep were nearby, bleating their adoration for Sjeh Mither, which only could have meant that the fae in-question was there. The little girl held onto the torch with her teeth as she climbed the ladder to poke her head over the top of the wall. Sure enough, there was Sjeh Mither, kneeling in the seafoam as she affectionately stroked the creatures’ wool coats. She glanced up and saw Terra watching them, chuckling before beckoning her over.

“Come here, hybrid daughter,” she requested. Terra eased herself over the wall like Daddy taught her and scaled the other ladder to get down to the beach. She ran up to Sjeh Mither and gave her a hug; there had always been something about the Sjeh Mither that made Terra feel warm and safe, and now was no different. The ocean lapped at her boots as she stepped back to see the fae goddess, knowing that neither of them could help the fact one was very small and the other was very tall.

“Are you leaving for the southern seas, Sjeh Mither?” Terra asked.

“That I am, and I thought I would come by to bid everyone farewell for now,” Mither replied gently. She bent down and carefully kissed Terra’s hat, letting magic wash over her. “It is a shame I cannot meet the hybrid son before I depart—the Mainland is not often a place for me these days.”

“Hybrid son…?” Terra tilted her head to the side, her eyes growing wide. “Does this mean I have a brother?”

“It is,” Mither affirmed. She held her hand out, palm towards the sky, and an image appeared for Terra to see. It was Mummy and Daddy in a tiny room together, with Daddy holding a bundle of blankets up against his chest. “You have a responsibility now, to be a good sister and friend; you are the Earth, whilst he is the Water, and no mortal shall rival your friendship.”

“Am I the Earth because Mummy said I was named for the Earth?” Terra wondered.

“In a ways—you are the steadfast one, the one whose convictions will stay strong and hearty, even if your opinions change. To be the Earth is to be a rock for others, a safe place for them to go when they are in peril.”

“…but what if I were the Water?”

“While Water can wear at the Earth, making it bow in time, it also can protect, defending the safe place as well as any warrior. Remember: there is no shame in bowing when the time is right, and that the Earth still gives Water much that it cannot obtain itself. Even the seal needs a place to rest.”

“Okay…?” Terra scrunched her nose and thought about that. Usually Sjeh Mither didn’t talk to only her alone, and when they did talk, Mummy or Daddy was around to say sort of what the fae goddess meant. It all sounded very complicated, but the girl knew she was very clever for being three-and-a-half and that it would make sense later. She held her hand perpendicular to her chest, just like how Mummy and Daddy taught her, and bowed. “I hope you have fun on your holiday visiting your cousin. I wish I could holiday with my cousin all winter long too.”

“Yemoja and I do not differ from your mortal cousin and you in many ways, that is true, yet it should also be understood that it is the differences that make us who we are.” Sjeh Mither patted Terra on the head and gave her a kind smile. “Believing-mortal and hybrid children alike need to learn the workings of the mortal world, so that knowledge can be used to prevent the likes of Yemoja and me from vanishing from people’s hearts.”

“I won’t forget you, _ever_ ,” Terra insisted. Sjeh Mither chuckled, amused at the small child before her.

“Then go be the Earth, hybrid daughter, and welcome the Water with open arms.”

* * *

An hour and a half later, Dave Oswald woke up languidly, stretching the sleep from his limbs. He was always so _cold_ when he came to visit his daughter, and that morning was no exception. Glancing at his mobile, he saw there was a text left by Ian ages ago at that point, having gone past him thanks to putting the timed silencer on.

‘ _douglas evan morlo, born @ 4:44 this morning_ ’ Attached was a photo of a rather irritated-looking baby who seemed ready to be on the verge of an ear-piercing wail. He smirked at the notion, considering every newborn he’d ever met was such a creature.

“Terra? You awake yet? I think you might want to see this…” He got out of bed and shuffled over to his granddaughter’s bedroom, not still fully awake. When he saw the toys staring out the window, he grumbled and attempted to not tumble down the stairs. Letting a child her age roam so freely down in Blackpool would have been grounds to lock up Ian and Clara both, but here on the quiet little island, it was not much a problem.

After slipping on a coat and shoes, Dave took a torch and went outside into the garden. When he couldn’t see Terra in any of the usual places, he climbed two steps up the ladder along the seawall and poked his head over. There the girl was, riding one of the near-wild sheep in the seafoam, while otters scurried about and all sorts of birds were flying. He cleared his throat, catching her attention.

“Granddad! You’re awake!” Terra squealed. “I’m hungry!”

“If you come back inside with me, I can show you a photo of the baby while you eat,” he offered.

“I want to see my baby brother!” she gasped. Terra nearly fell off the sheep, running over and up the ladder soon as her feet hit the sand. She hopped into Dave’s arms, who carried her inside in relief.

“How did you know you had a brother?” he asked. He put his granddaughter down on the kitchen floor and watched as she began to grow inward. “Terra? Did you just guess?”

“I just knew,” she said. It wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t the truth. “What’s for breakfast?”

 


	5. Before Chris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place when Terra is still a wee tiny baby and is all over the place POV-wise.

“Lucy Susann Riggins, get _down_ from there before you fall off!”

At the sound of her full name, Lucy hopped down off the ferry railing and went back to sit next to her mum. She slumped in her seat, letting her legs dangle, kicking the air grumpily. Ever since Mummy and Daddy said she was going to get a baby brother, Lucy noticed that there was a lot less fun going on and she was the one who was suffering the most. It was _Chris’s_ room that was getting redecorated, it was _Chris_ who was going to need all the things they were bringing home, and it was _Chris_ who was getting all her old toys and blankets and stuff that she _still wanted_ , darn it! He was even about a month away yet and he was _still_ making it so that he was the center of attention, with Mummy always fussing over her large tummy. Lucy pouted the entire rest of the trip across the choppy sounds and firths before Daddy picked her up and placed her back in the car.

This was going to be an important holiday, Mummy and Daddy had said when they packed up the car and started the long drive north to Auntie Clara and Uncle Ian’s. While Lucy didn’t really believe Mummy, she _did_ believe Daddy. She was going to meet her cousin Terra in-person for the first time, not just over Skype, and that did seem pretty neat. Mummy said that playing with Terra would get her ready for when Chris was born, and that seemed considerably less neat, plus it did not make sense. A cousin was different than a brother, and Auntie Clara and Uncle Ian’s was different from home, or Gran’s, or anywhere else they normally went. She watched the scenery go by as they drove through Hollandstoun and along the barely-worn path that went over towards their destination. The car was barely in park when Lucy jettisoned herself from the vehicle and ran into the arms of the tall man coming out of the house.

“Uncle Ian!” she squealed in delight. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and held her up high above his head, spinning her around. “I misseded you, Uncle Ian!”

“Pup, you’re getting so _big_ ,” he marveled, bringing her back down to rest against his hip. Ian then approached the car to greet the adults in the party, giving them understanding looks. “How was the ride? The newest one didn’t make you stop too often, did he?”

“Thankfully not, but I think the loo would be a safe thing about now,” Jen said. She went inside, leaving her husband and their host to take care of the luggage.

“She is _brutal_ this time around,” Rigsy said quietly while unloading the boot. “Lucy was a joy, but _Chris_ …”

“At least you know it’s not really her, and that it’s all worth it,” Ian said. He allowed Lucy to wriggle free so she could climb into the back seat and gather her things. Taking a bag from Rigsy, he led him into the house and up the stairs, to the guest bedroom they had stayed in before. “You and Jen can sleep here.”

“What about _me_ , Uncle Ian?” Lucy asked. The two men turned around to see her standing with her Backpack of Very Important Things and a wide-eyed expression.

“You get to stay in the nursery with Terra,” Ian explained. “She’s napping now and isn’t very fun, but would you like to see her?”

Lucy’s eyes nearly sparkled with anticipation. Her honorary uncle dutifully took her hand and led her towards one of the rooms she wasn’t allowed in last time. He slowly opened the door and they crept in, careful not to make much noise.

As the three-year-old crept towards the cot, she studied the baby laying in it carefully. Terra looked a lot like the little brothers and sisters that kids had at daycare, but there was something about her, something she couldn’t say, that made her different. It was sort of like the same thing that made Uncle Ian different, and she guessed that made sense, since Terra was Uncle Ian’s daughter. She knew that Terra was six months old—Mummy and Daddy had told her on the drive up—but she still looked so tiny.

“Your peedie wee cousin, just as promised,” Ian said. Lucy watched him as he fawned over the baby, seeing that there was a look in his eyes that she didn’t understand. He rubbed her tummy in order to wake her up, with Terra fussing as she realized she was no longer asleep. Uncle Ian picked the baby up and bounced her in his arms, calming her almost instantly. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Yes, please,” Lucy replied. She put her backpack down and sat in the rocking chair, being very careful as she was passed her cousin. Terra looked up at her in wonder, not entirely certain what was going on. “Wow, she’s heavy… and bigger than she looks sleeping.”

“I think she’s a good baby to practice with for when your brother comes, hmm?”

“No,” she muttered. “Terra’s funner than Chris will be. A sister would be funner than a brother for me, right?”

“I never had brothers or sisters, but I can tell you that it shouldn’t matter if Chris is a brother or a sister. I think you two will have fun, just like you and Terra will have fun.” He grabbed a stuffed sheep from a pile of toys and handed it to Lucy. “Here, this is her favorite.”

“Oh, okay,” Lucy agreed. She began bouncing the sheep up and down, humming a tune as Uncle Ian turned his attention to Daddy.

“Clara still at work?” Rigsy asked.

“She’ll be back for lunch; but in the meantime, we’ve got the little ones to watch over,” Ian said. The men watched their daughters silently, glad there was no fussing and no pouting for the first time that day.

“Look at that—Lucy’s a natural,” her father chuckled.

“Wouldn’t be if my Terra wasn’t such a good-natured one.”

“You kidding? It’s Lucy’s sister skills budding early.”

“…because _Terra_ isn’t a screaming terror…”

While Uncle Ian and Daddy bickered, just like they did all the time, Lucy watched as Terra began to yawn and go to sleep again, not having fully finished her naptime. She caught sight of the play cot on the other side of the room and carried Terra over. She crawled in herself, trying her best to not wake the baby in her arms, and was able to get them both in. Lucy laid down next to her cousin and decided to take a nap as well. Yeah, babies weren’t all bad, she guessed.

 


	6. Terra and Douglas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following short takes place when Terra is five and Douglas is two.

One of the things that Clara enjoyed the most about teaching where her daughter went to school was that they were able to walk to and from Hollandstoun together with nothing bothering them. There and back, with another round trip for lunch—it was good for them, and facilitated conversation without having the pressure of anyone else around to butt in.

“Mum? Why are we different?”

…though sometimes, it wasn’t exactly easy.

“What do you mean, sweetie?” Clara wondered. “Is it because Dad and I don’t sound like the other parents?”

“No, not that,” Terra said, shaking her head. “Dad is different, Douglas is different, _I’m_ different, but I don’t know why.”

Her mother’s hear skipped a beat. “What makes you think that you’re different?”

“I get the feeling that Sjeh Mither doesn’t visit everyone, and no one believes me when I say I can talk to the sheep, or that Dad talks to the seals.”

“That’s because of things far beyond our control, sweetie,” Clara frowned. “Your father’s different than the other dads at school, and that’s fine. It’s just…”

“What, Mum?”

“It’s just something that’s a bit complicated to explain,” she finished. It _was_ complicated, attempting to explain to a half-fae child that they weren’t fully human to begin with, something that her peers took for granted, but it was something to save for another day. “Say, why don’t you run ahead and see what Douglas is doing? I’m sure he’s outside in the garden.”

“Okay, Mum,” Terra said. She slid her backpack off and handed it to Clara, scurrying ahead of her and rushing towards the garden gate. Ignoring the magical crackling that enveloped her in a protective ward that kept Unseelies and other such nasties away from the house, she went through the gate and searched for her brother, who was in an empty flower bed. He was playing with the pillbugs, poking them so that they rolled up and allowing the bolder ones to crawl along his fingers.

“Tehwah!” he grinned, holding up a terrified pillbug. “Wook!”

“That’s mean,” she frowned. Terra took the insect from Douglas’s hand and placed it back in the soft, cool dirt. “You have to be _nice_ to bugs.”

Douglas made an irritated noise—he didn’t like the idea, but he didn’t fight his sister on this one. She was bigger, and bigger meant she could pick him up and drag him to Mummy and Daddy. He rolled in the dirt instead, getting all sorts of grime on his clothes and in his brown curls.

“ _Douglas!_ ” Terra scolded, putting her fists on her hips. “You know you shouldn’t do that!” The girl then watched as her brother stood up on his still-slightly-wobbly legs and bounced over towards another spot in the garden, this one a small lean-to against the wall that he crawled under, assuming she would not follow him. The toddler was proven wrong when she popped up at the other end of the lean-to, sticking her face in to scold him properly.

“Go way,” Douglas insisted. He curled up amongst the dead leaves and long grass, not caring how filthy he got. “Tehwah no pway, so Tehwah go way.”

“I wanted to know if you wanted to go visit the sheep,” his sister said. Almost instantly, the little boy perked up, his eyes sparkling in excitement.

“Sheeps! Sheeps!” he screeched. Douglas crawled out from under the lean-to and climbed onto Terra’s back, holding on tight as she ran over to the ladder that was against the sea wall. The one on the garden side was rather short, though the one on the beach side was very tall—taller than Dad—and Terra had to be very careful when climbing down because the sand made it a little wobbly. She got down safely and Douglas leapt off her, looking around frantically for the ovines he wanted to see so desperately.

“Hold my hand, okay?” Terra requested. Her brother took her hand and they walked together along the beach, straying not far from the ladder until they saw a group of five that were munching idly on some beached kelp.

“Sheeps! Hi!”

<Boy! Girl!> they responded. <Eat!>

“We don’t eats kelps,” Douglas giggled. “Kelps for sheeps.” He carefully ran his hand over the nearest sheep’s coat, marveling at it. “Fwuffy!”

<Tasty kelp! Good munch!>

“We can’t, or else we’ll spoil teatime and dinner,” Terra explained. “Thank you anyway.”

<Miss out! More for us!>

“Ride, please?!” Douglas requested. The smallest sheep bleated in acceptance and knelt down, allowing the toddler to climb upon its back. Another stopped eating and bent down for Terra, and the two sheep began quickly shuffling around on the wet beach, making the siblings cackle in delight. Their mirth was short-lived, however, when their father’s face popped up over the sea wall. He seemed worried at first, but when he figured out what his children were up to…

“Alright, off the mutant ponies,” he ordered, using his cross voice. He climbed the ladder and shooed away the sheep before crouching down before his children. “What did I tell you about the beach without Mam or me?”

“Don’t do it,” Douglas sniffled.

“We were being careful though, Dad!” Terra insisted. “We didn’t even eat the kelp this time!”

“Come on; let’s get back to the house,” Ian said. He picked up Douglas and held his hand out for Terra, which she sadly took. “We can come back another time—right now we’re getting ready to call Granddad.”

“Oh, okay,” Terra solemnly nodded.

“Bye sheeps! Wayter!” Douglas called out, waving animatedly. The sheep bleated in reply; another day, Boy. Another day.


	7. The Night Before School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following takes place when Terra is 8 and Douglas is 4 (but an old 4 at that).

It was the night before Douglas’s first day of school. The little boy was bouncing off the walls in excitement, ready to face the following day with his brand-new backpack and sneakers, irritating his sister to no end.

“It’s just school, you know,” she frowned. She was reading in the sitting room while her brother was nearly rolling around on the rug. With their parents in the kitchen doing some last-minute work before school started in the morning, it was just the siblings in the room.

“I know it’s just school, but it’s _exciting_!” Douglas exclaimed. “I get to see the other kids from the island my age _all day_ , and I can see you and Mum whenever I want, and…”

“You can’t walk out of your class and into Mum’s whenever you feel like it,” Terra said. “It’s against the rules.”

“What if I don’t feel good, or I get so excited I… you know…” He crept over to her side and brought his voice down low. “…pee my pants.”

“Then you go to the school secretary and call Dad,” she shrugged. “It’s not difficult.”

“Oh no!” the boy gasped. “What if Sjeh Mither comes while we’re at school! We’ll miss her!”

“…then we miss her. She comes back.” This was beginning to wear on Terra’s nerves; all she wanted to do was read in her favorite spot on the couch with her mug of cocoa and she couldn’t get _any_ peace and quiet. Then the girl had an idea. “It’s probably better we miss Sjeh Mither anyhow… you know…”

“…know what?”

“You know… so that she doesn’t stay too long and Uaine Duine finds her.”

Douglas’s face went sheet-white. “Who…?”

“Uaine Duine, the Green Man, the natural enemy of Sjeh Mither. Grass beats water, after all.”

“That’s in Pokémon!” the boy protested.

“Where do you think they got the idea?”

Now _that_ made him think. So that meant water fae were preyed upon by grass fae? Fire fae preyed upon grass and water on fire? Did that mean that fae in general were strong against dragons? Were there even any dragons left? The thought of a dragon, all flame and malice, on their little island made him shiver and a sort of weight dropped in his stomach. He crept up the stairs and climbed into his bed, grabbing his stuffed sheep and holding it close while he worried over Sjeh Mither’s fate should the Green Man find her.

It took a while, but eventually his father came into the bedroom, looking for his boy. “Ah, there you are—Mam and I were wondering where you went.” He sat down on the edge of the boat-shaped bed that used to be Terra’s and stared at Douglas. “What’s the problem? You usually don’t hug Shirley that tight unless you’re scared of something.”

“Terra said that Sjeh Mither’s natural enemy is the Green Man, like in Pokémon, and that he’ll catch her if she stays on land too long!” the boy sniffled. “Then the nuckelavee won’t ever be tame and we’ll be stuck here and Granddad and Uncle Rigsy and Auntie Jen and Lucy and Chris won’t ever be able to come and visit ever again!”

“Wait, what…?” Ian asked, completely baffled. “When did your sister tell you this?”

“Earlier when I was downstairs and she was too while she was reading but I was too excited to read and…”

“Okay, hold up; I think I know what the problem is,” Ian said, stopping his son. “Terra lied to you so that you would leave her alone. There is no Green Man… not here, anyhow.”

“…there isn’t…?”

“Nope; besides, even if there was one, he would not harm Sjeh Mither. She’s the summer spirit, and Green Men can only survive in places that have some sort of summer. He would need her to survive. It’s Teran, the winter spirit, that doesn’t like her.”

“Oh…” Douglas mused. “Well, then how about dragons?”

“Dragons? What about them?”

“Can faeries defeat dragons easily? You study them, so you know, right? Do they?”

“Um… not exactly,” Ian replied. His children still didn’t know about his true origins, meaning that he had to keep up the old scholar’s ruse for a while yet. He shrugged though, figuring the truth was alright for this one. “They’re not exactly _bad_ , dragons are. I’ve met one that runs a rather nice antique shop in Soho,.. though you can’t make her cross, or she’ll pull out something to hit you with out of nowhere...”

“Dad, I’m being serious!”

“As am I.” He stroked his son’s fluffy curls and exhaled heavily. “You know that Terra’s simply upset because school used to be the thing she shared with Mam, and now you’re encroaching on that. Don’t let her make you feel bad, because it’s normal… or so I’m told.”

“It’s normal for Terra to be mean?”

“No; it’s normal for Terra to want you to… okay, so she is being mean, but it’s not because she wants to be so. Let her cool off and she’ll be her old self again soon enough.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He kissed his son’s forehead, transferring some protective magic to him, and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on downstairs. Mam’s got some ice cream for your last night before school.”

“Awesome!” Douglas gasped. He tossed aside his sheep and bolted down the stairs, leaving his father to catch up at his own pace. Ian hoped that the kids would be able to get on while attending school together or else there would be plenty of problems that he would have rather not dealt with.


	8. Wanted, Though Not Expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following takes place about a month or so before Terra turns three.

Clara wasn’t exactly certain as to why she didn’t very well that particular day. She already felt like vomiting twice and was sore in odd places despite the fact it was only lunchtime. After firing off a text to Ian to check in (he and Terra both ended up being fine, despite the fact she had run off and hid in the garden on him again), she proceeded to ignore her sandwich and crisps in favor of only having some tea. She was able to make it through the remainder of the workday without slipping up, though she _did_ happen to vomit in a hedge on her way home.

“Mummy!” Terra gasped the moment Clara entered the house. The preschooler barreled into her mother, nearly knocking her over onto the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Mummy’s fine, dear—go back to playing now, yeah?” Terra rushed back to the sitting room at that, freeing Clara to head towards the kitchen, where Ian was sitting with some scribbled notes and a fresh cuppa, leaning over the latter so that the steam hit his face. “Feeling any better yourself?”

“Not entirely,” he sniffed. “I think this cold is nearly gone though; it’ll be good when I’m not constantly cold all the time. Do humans normally have colds that last this long?”

“Not really, but you’re probably a special exception given the circumstances,” she replied. Clara poured herself some tea and sat down as well, glancing over the papers on the table. “I thought you weren’t going to get back to work until after you felt better.”

“I’ve been down for over two months—I can’t afford to put this off any longer,” he said sourly. “This paper will end up being a decent supplement to your paycheck, and then we can put that addition on that you wanted _plus_ put away for a family holiday.” The selkie then glanced over at his wife and narrowed his eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t feel good myself,” Clara admitted. “It’s probably just that fermented fish we brought into class yesterday for the kids to try finally getting to me.”

“Whatever it is, I’d like us both to get better soon so we can get back to… you know…” His hand found her knee and he gave her a bashful smile. “Terra’s going to be a good sister, don’t you think?”

“About that, Ian…” She exhaled heavily, discomfort apparent in her voice. “I’m not sure about that anymore. Terra would be fine, it’s not about that, but I don’t know if _I_ can handle it right now. Maybe again in October, but not this very moment.”

“Why October?”

“So I can have the baby in the summer holiday, that’s why. I don’t want to be off work for very long—they’re talking about giving me _three_ grade levels next term.”

“Can they do that?”

“If they want to keep the school open, then yeah.” Clara clutched her mug tightly, staring down at the milky tea. “I _do_ want one more, don’t get me wrong, but since I’m not pregnant from before you caught the _bloody cold of the decade_ …”

“I understand,” Ian relented. “One day… just not today… because you can’t afford it with work, and we need to be able to afford things along with the child we already have, right?”

“That’s a good way to sum it up, yeah,” she nodded. She took hold of his hand and they continued on with their tea. They’d get there, eventually, and they were fine with that.

* * *

She was ill again the following day.

Actually, Clara took notice of the fact that she did not feel well the entire rest of the week. It was only that weekend, after missing a menstrual cycle, did she suspect that anything was going on. She took a test kit with her to the loo (thank God, Sjeh Mither, or whatever, for discreet packaging when ordering off the internet), coming out completely baffled.

She wasn’t ill—she was _pregnant_.

Frankly, it shouldn’t’ve been possible. She and Ian had stopped trying completely when he caught that ridiculous cold that had been making its way around the island (impacting the human inhabitants much less severely), and she knew she hadn’t been pregnant thanks to a doctor’s visit she went to in the meantime. Everything had come back negative except for the little stick in her hand—how…?

Ian found Clara that night in a completely flustered panic in their bedroom. He had just put Terra to bed, meaning they were alone.

“Is everything alright?” he wondered cautiously.

“Ian, I… oh, screw it: I’m pregnant,” she replied, cutting to the gist of things. “I’m pregnant and I shouldn’t be and—”

“Oh Clara, that’s wonderful news,” he beamed. He picked her up in a hug that spun halfway around before putting her down. Taking a good whiff of his wife, the selkie grinned, “Yes, you definitely are. I wouldn’t have known had you not said so for about another week or so; this dumb cold, you know…”

“This is serious!” she snapped. “We haven’t had sex in months!”

“The baby just waited until it sensed I was beginning to get healthy again to implant itself, which must mean that it can sense both parents, and…”

“Wait, it _what_ …?!”

“You mean… humans don’t… do… that… when… um… breeding…?”

“We do **_no such thing_**!”

“Huh, that’s odd, because that’s what seals do all the time, and I—” Ian was cut off by his tiny human wife emitting such an annoyed sound that it sent a chill down his fae spine. “Is this one for the notecards?”

“Definitely one for the notecards,” she hissed, pointing towards the writing desk in the corner of the room. He went over and took a fresh card from one of the drawers, printing “ _Do not confuse seal and human physiology and/or natural processes_ ” on it, stuffing it in with a small pile of other cards sitting on the desk, bound by a rubber band. He returned to her side, holding his arm out wide.

“Done,” he said. “I promise I’ll try not to delay-impregnate you again.”

“Fine,” she mumbled, headbutting his chest as he hugged her. There was no denying how warm he was; warm and comfortable and smelling of the sea. He was more than just the father of her child—no, _children_ —but he was her best friend and the one person she couldn’t stay cross at, not for a million, billion years. “Can we go to bed now? I really should get to bed, if I really am pregnant with your mutant seal-fae child… _again_.”

“We most certainly can, and you most certainly are,” Ian grinned. He picked up Clara and carried her to bed, climbing in afterwards to use her shoulder as a pillow while he laid there with his hand up her shirt, touching the bare skin of her stomach. “Now instead of trying in October, we’ll be changing nappies.”

“Don’t sound too happy about that,” she teased. She gently tapped the back of his head as he craned his neck to kiss her throat—what an idiot. “Hey, Ian?”

“Yeah?”

“If this baby, um, behaved like a seal when it came to coming into existence, does this mean that they will be a selkie like you?”

“Possibly, but nothing is for certain,” he said. “I must have changed my mind over a dozen times when you were carrying Terra.”

“Now that I remember clearly.”

“At least one thing is for certain: they will be a little bit of you and a little bit of me.” The door then creaked open and the mattress shifted slightly. “Speaking of… how’s our precious pup?”

“Daddy, under the bed,” Terra whined. She clung to her father, who held her as he got out of bed.

“Let’s see what we can do to banish that wee imp once and for all,” he said. He kissed his wife before bringing their daughter back to her room, determined to make the imaginary spirit vanish in the lass’s eyes. Clara laid alone in her room, putting a hand to the warm skin her husband had just touched.

It was earlier than expected, but she would take it.


End file.
